


Day 2- At a Desk

by haleyesido (ssleif)



Series: Omovember [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Coming In Pants, Established Relationship, M/M, Omorashi, Wetting, omovember
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-30 23:42:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12663852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssleif/pseuds/haleyesido
Summary: Derek surprises Stiles in the middle of a research-and-homework spiral. Things escalate. For day 2 "at a desk" on the Omovember prompt list. (that means Pee, folks. DLDR)





	Day 2- At a Desk

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god this has been in my tumblr drafts for 10000 years. Or, well, since last year.

 

Stiles was on a roll.

Sure, it was the tomorrow-er side of tonight, and he’d maaaaaybe had more sugar than was strictly advisable in liquid form, and he kiiiinda had to pee and his wrists and elbows were killing him...

But he’d gotten his English paper done, and his history paper started, and had an actual theory about the Sort-of-hieroglyphs and dead cats people had been finding in the preserve.

On a roll!

But no, yeah, he did actually have to pee kinda bad. He should probably go take care of that. In a minute.

But his screen distracted him once more.

Juuuust about the time he was seriously working up the concentration and motivation to put his computer aside for a minute and go take care of, y’know, necessary biological functions... Derek Hale popped into his room.

Well, jumped onto his windowsill.

Stiles shouted and shoved back from the desk, only realizing just how badly he had to go when he suddenly found himself trying not to put his hands in his lap to prevent a leak.

And Derek Hale was still on his windowsill.

“Heeeey, Derek, whatcha doing on this fine night, other than trying to scare the crap out of your boyfriend, huh?”

Derek rolled his eyes, and Stiles cautiously wheeled himself back to the desk. he felt decidedly... squirmy and hoped the desk might hide some of it.

“If you didn’t leave your window open like a death wish, maybe no one would use it to enter your room.”

“You’re the only person who does that, and you know it. No one else is a creeper. They use doors. And text first.” If Derek had texted, which he actually usually did, these days as much to find out if the sheriff was home and if they had time to make out for a while... yeah, had he texted, Stiles might have had a moment to himself. He reeeeally needed a moment to himself.

“Did you find anything on the hieroglyphs?” Derek demanded, breaking Stiles from his worries and redirecting him back towards his computer.

“Hello to you too, lover boy,” Stiles grumbled. Derek rolled his eyes again, slid off the sill, leaned down and kissed Stiles, hard, and then returned to his perch.

“... uh.” Stiles’ brain had momentarily gone offline. “ ...yeah, actually,” and he was distracted again, proceeding to lay out what he’d learned about the spin-off sect of pseudo-pagan, psuedo-egyptian religion that used the character set, and how he thought the symbolism and power of cats might work into the whole thing.

Derek disagreed with him over the cats, suggesting that animal sacrifices were common to a lot of practices and purposes, and Stiles stood up, a little angrily, to emphasize his point about the manner of their deaths--

And had to hunch over a little and shoot a hand down and grab himself, suddenly, as his neglected bladder throbbed and reminded him it existed and was not going to be put off much longer.

And then he froze, blushing, and looked up at Derek.

Whose eyes were very wide.

Stiles let go of himself and tried to straighten up, but another urgent spasm from his bladder had him gripping himself again.

“Uh. So.” Stiles began, not really sure what he was trying to get out of, or how he was going to get out of it. “This looks. This looks like...”

Derek’s eyes were still very wide but he waved a hand at Stiles and said “Uh, like, it looks like you...”

And Stiles felt another pang, squirmed in place, and gripped himself harder, but just a touch too late. He could feel wetness at the tip of his dick.

Derek’s nostrils flared.

“... you have to piss.”

Stiles’s face burned with mortification.

“Um. yes. that. is a thing. I-  _hng-_  need to do. kinda bad.”

Derek stared.

“So. I’ll be right back.” And Stiles adjusted his grip so he could hopefully walk/run to the bathroom, and felt another tiny trickle of urine escape.

“... or you could stay.”

Stiles took a step and froze, as much because he needed a better grip if he was going anywhere with dry-ish pants, as because...

“I could what now?” He turned his shoulders back and looked at Derek... who was blushing.

“Uh.” He cleared his throat. “Nothing.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes.

“Oh no, buddy. We have about two seconds before I’m out of time anyway, and you can’t just say stuff and expect me to ignore it.” Derek’s eyes got wide again when Stiles mentioned how close he was to actually losing it, before he schooled his face back into a scowl. “C’mon, big guy. What did you mean?”

Still scowling, Derek looked everywhere but Stiles’ face.

Stiles turned towards him and hissed, quickly sliding his free hand under his waistband, dodging the bulge of his bladder (holy  _crap_  he had to pee, how the  _hell_  had he been this distracted) to grab the base of his dick.

“C’mon, dude, we’re all about enthusiastic consent. Use your words.”

Derek was still looking anywhere but directly at Stiles, and his face was redder than Stiles had ever seen it, as Stiles watched his nostrils flair, clearly catching exactly how damn close he was to the edge.

But he did, finally, clear his throat.

“Um.” it was a start. “Uh. I would, maybe, if you wanted, I mean, I wouldn’t mind, uh, if it was, if you were okay with--”

Stiles wanted to be Patient and let Derek come to it in his own time. Derek had the hardest time asking for things AT ALL, let alone in the bedroom, and Stiles liked to encourage that where he could. But at the same time, he had kind of a death grip on his dick, and the pressure in his abdomen was almost unbearable, and he was dribbling now, just a bit, and definitely out of time.

“You have a pee fetish? Which is totally fine....”

Derek got even redder, if that was possible, but looked at Stiles, finally, as if bracing himself for something. he opened and closed his mouth once before actually speaking.

“It’s, it’s not a pee thing? I mean, kind of, I mean-”

Stiles let out a harsh breath (and another spurt of pee. He could feel the wetness around his hand, and Derek kept darting little glances at it).

“Okay, dude, I am - _uh-_  seriously about to pee myself. Is that something you would - _hnnnm-_  like to see happen? ... I mean it, it’s pretty much,” Stiles hissed, “happening already...”

Derek looked like he was thinking about passing out, actually, but he nodded anyway, and Stiles made a descision.

“Okay, bedroom floor, not the best place for this--!” Feeling himself losing it, he tightened his fingers, pivoted, and started towards the bathroom with tiny, minced steps, afraid to jostle himself too much. The wet spot was a few inches long, now, and Stiles really didn’t want to have to clean up a trail.

The bathroom door was open, thank all powers, and Stiles didn’t even have to think about going to stand in the bath tub. Carefully lifting his legs over the edge and turning around, he felt himself start going, and was barely able to slow it back to a trickle this time. 

Derek, it turned out, had been right behind him and now stood frozen in the middle of the room, an unbelievably obvious erection tenting his pants, eyes locked on where Stiles could feel the liquid bleed through the fabric of his jeans and send a little streamer of wetness down towards his knee.

“Is this-” he started, but derek wasn’t looking at his face. 

“Derek!” 

Derek looked up. 

“Dude, is this gonna work for you? I’m gonn- Shit!”

The leak started again, and this time, Stiles knew that was it. He tried, futilely, to stem it just a little longer, but whether there was something psychological going on, now he was in a bathroom, and in the tub (he regularly peed in the shower. so sue him. California was almost always in a drought, he was totally conserving water), or whether he had simply reached his limit.... he finally let go of himself, and pulled his hands away.

Derek looked transfixed. Stiles closed his eyes. 

He peed for what felt like forever, not even minding the way his jeans and socks got heavy and wet, it felt so good. He nearly moaned, and stopped himself, and then wondered why he stopped himself. Surely if this was sexual for Derek, he wouldn’t mind if Stiles sounded a little sexual?

Whatever. It felt awesome.

When he was finally done, just a couple little dribbles and a some pee-shivvers left, Stiles opened his eyes again, and looked at Derek.

Derek was staring, panting, open-mouthed, hands clenched at his sides, and his pants...

There was a very large damp spot on Derek’s pants, below the head of his truly impressive bulge.

“Derek? Did you just...”

Derek closed his eyes, and shook his head.

“Oh.” alright then. “Are you going to-?”

Derek whimpered a little, Grabbed his dick through his jeans, and came.

It was Stiles’ turn to let his mouth hang open a little. He’d never seen Derek react like that to...  _any_  kink. Certainly not while clothed. Holy shit.

Well. This was clearly something they were going to have to revisit later.

Much later. His jeans were cooling, and beginning to itch.

Yuck.


End file.
